


Angel's Roses

by kalonscounter (SeaCollides)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2, The Nightingale and the Rose - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Nightingale and the Rose AU, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaCollides/pseuds/kalonscounter
Summary: “She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,” Hajime sighed to himself, “but there aren’t any red roses in my garden.”Here at last is a true lover.Ah, on what little things does happiness depend.-A Nightingale and The Rose AU but KomaHina(?)-fied, ft. Nagito as the Nightingale and Hajime as the Student.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nanami Chiaki/Sonia Nevermind
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Angel's Roses

**Author's Note:**

> We're reading Oscar Wilde's short tales in school and I got inspired to make a DR version of one of his stories. 
> 
> Hajime is low-key OOC and a bit of a 'nice guy' because the Student is an over-dramatic fool and Hajime is... well, a snarky sarcastic little shit, so it was hard to re-write the Student's dialogue as Hajime's. Chiaki might also come off as a little strange, and the Hajime/Chiaki interaction will be a little weird to some. I apologize fully on that part.
> 
> I've used the word 'rose' at least 34 times here. Holy crap. And the writing style for these following works will be nothing like my older ones, fair warning. It'll revert, don't fear. Thanks Oscar Wilde, love your works.
> 
> CWs: Blood and Injury, Major Character Death

A cool gust of wind rocked through the neighborhood, and the tendrils of grass beneath Hinata’s feet danced delicately like ribbons in the sky. The dark-haired man held a small purple hyacinth between his fingers as he plucked out the petals one by one, jewels of tears glimmering near the corners of his eyes.

“She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,” he sighed to himself, “but there are no red roses in my garden.”

Walking down the pavement, a white-haired man perked up and listened in on the lover’s words.

“No red rose in my garden,” Hinata repeated back to himself with a miserable look on his features, “and all because of that, she won’t dance with me tomorrow night.”

 _Here at last is a true lover,_ the observer- Komaeda- wondered to himself, amazed. _Night after night I have dreamt of him, though I have never met him; I have imagined his great deeds of passion, and how his will can lead the planted seeds of hope to bloom._

“A school dance will be hosted tomorrow, but I won’t be able to meet her without this rose… she won’t think anything of me,” Hinata lamented, crushing the hyacinth blossom beneath his palms. “Really, being a plain middle-class citizen could not be any worse.”

 _Here indeed is a true lover_ , Komaeda affirmed, now hiding behind a lamp post to watch the man. _What I dream of he suffers, what is hope to me is despair to him. Surely he can overcome this despair, and a brilliant hope will rise from it._

He placed a hand over his mouth, brimming with joy. _Hope is such a wonderful thing._

“The speakers will play her favourite song,” Hinata continued, talking to himself over his heartbreak, “and she’ll stay with me for the night. We’re gonna leave the hall side-by-side, and I’ll return to her house to play games with her. But she won’t dance with me anymore- I don’t have a rose to give her.”

With that, Hinata let out an exhale of resignation and stomped on the purple flower lying scattered on the ground as a final sign of defeat. He then went into his house through the back, the peeling wooden door slamming shut behind him.

“I must help him,” Komaeda said aloud as he replayed the brown-haired man’s words of sorrow in his mind. “He must be the catalyst to birth the strongest of hopes. To witness and aid that kind of hope… truly, I must be the luckiest man alive.”

So the white-haired man hurried away from the neighborhood and went to find the humble florist tucked into a corner of a bustling street.

“Give me your reddest rose,” he said as he reached for his over-filled wallet, “and I will pay you any amount of money you want.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have any red roses,” the silver-haired woman behind the counter apologized. “It’s Valentine's Day tomorrow. All the romantics bought our available roses yesterday.”

Komaeda slipped his wallet back into the folds of his jacket, nodding slightly. “I understand,” he sighed, preparing to leave the shop. “I’ll manage.”

“Wait!” a man called out from the backroom. He had a curious eyepatch over his right eye. “Try going to my friend Ibuki. She might have some roses in her backyard- here’s her address.”

The blond man quickly scribbled down an address followed by an explanation on a piece of paper. He handed it to Komaeda, who took it with trembling hands.

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes shining as he gave the paper a read. The eyepatch man waved a dismissive hand. “S’nothing. Go get your woman, man, whatever.”

Komaeda sprinted out of the shop and went to the address listed. It was farther than he thought, and by the time he reached the house, it was already two in the afternoon.

“Hello?” he asked as he knocked on the front door. “Is Miss Mioda here?”

“Yahoo! You bet she is!” a loud voice yelled from the other side. Soon, the door swung open to reveal a wild-haired girl with piercings on her face.

“Give me a red rose,” he begged, showing the slip of paper to her. “And I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“A red rose?” Ibuki echoed, reading the note with wide eyes. “Oh dear, oh dear…”

Ibuki placed two contemplative fingers on the sides of her head. “Ibuki thinks she doesn’t have any red roses,” she hummed. “Ibuki only has yellow roses at the moment. Super sorry!”

Komaeda shook his head. “It’s fine,” he assured. “I’ll find a way to get the rose.”

Ibuki suddenly gasped out an ‘aha!’. “Visit Sonia’s garden!” she said, pulling out her phone to show Komaeda the location. “A princess must have a rose in her garden, even if it’s a temporary house. She must have the reddest ones!”

The man looked at the map on Ibuki’s phone. “I know where this is,” he murmured. “But won’t it be dangerous to visit a princess’s garden uninvited?”

“Hm… you’re right. But Ibuki is sure she’d let you in if you tell her Ibuki sent you!”

“Alright. Thank you very much,” Komaeda replied. He waved goodbye to Ibuki before sprinting away once more.

It was getting dark by the time he arrived at the princess’s estate. Even though it was a temporary home, the whole building was enormous and gave off a threatening aura, scaring the breath out of Komaeda.

The moon began to rise as the night crept closer, the chilly hands of winter snaking around the land, gripping whatever it could touch with unrelenting coldness. Komaeda shivered and wrapped his jacket closer to himself as he mostly relied on the sun’s warmth during the day.

He walked up to the imposing front door and took hold of its knocker. He brought it down thrice, the echo of steel against wood resonating loudly through the air.

The door creaked open, revealing a butler dressed in an expensive suit. “Miss Sonia isn’t here right now,” he quipped before he slammed the door shut on Komaeda’s face.

“But- ah.”

Komaeda winced at the rude dismissal.

_What will I do now?_

He began walking around the estate. Once he rounded a corner and reached the back of the house, he sent a quick peek at the gated garden through its black iron bars.

“Maybe I can sneak in,” was all Komaeda said before he immediately began scaling the ridiculously tall fence.

The rough texture scraped and bruised Komaeda’s palms, and he nearly fell once or twice. A sharp hiss of pain escaped the man’s lips when he reached the top, the spikes on the tip of the fence accidentally scratching a particularly bloody gash across his thigh.

Komaeda bit down on his tongue to muffle his whimpers. He shakily touched down on the ground and immediately collapsed, trying to lessen the red streams of blood flowing from his wound. His trousers were already stained with crimson, warm and messy.

“An injury won’t stop me,” he gritted out as he stumbled to his feet, determination glinting in his eyes. “A rare hope will be birthed from this. I’ll do all I can to help it… even if it kills me!”

With blood trailing wherever he walked, Komaeda began searching the endless garden for the reddest of roses. He found pink ones, magenta ones, even artificially dyed blue ones, but he found no red rose. The winter had nipped the red rose tree’s buds and frosted the plant’s branches, so no flower was to bloom that night.

In a last-ditch effort, Komaeda picked the largest white rose and held it between his fingers, praying the lover would accept it. When his blood-stained hand touched the snowy petals, however, crimson burst forth and sent small specks of color running through the rose’s veins, ruby-red contrasting against pale-ivory beneath the February moonlight.

“Blood,” Komaeda whispered as he looked at the flower. “Blood is a great price to pay for a rose, but if this will bring forth hope, then I will do it.”

Komaeda pressed the flower against the gash on his thigh, sucking in a large breath as the flower drained him, seeping him of his strength. But the rose was hungry, and a surface scratch was not enough to feed it, for it had been so long since a man had come to take it away.

Komaeda fumbled for the swiss army knife hidden in his pockets, his right leg completely numb. He steeled his nerves before slicing down on his left arm, his teeth nearly breaking his lips as he bit down, tears falling from his eyes like tiny little snowflakes. He offered the half-dyed rose his newer wound, sweat coating his forehead as the flower blooded him dry.

When the flower’s thirst was quenched, Komaeda stood up weakly, his vision spinning like a carousel. The rose was colored a brilliant shade of garnet, and it smelled like a sickly-sweet brew of flowering poison. Truly, it was the reddest rose in the whole garden, and it was also the most sadistic.

Komaeda was very careful in transporting the rose to the brown-haired man. He held it between his teeth, the thorns pressing down painfully on his tongue, but he paid it no mind as the rose was complete. Once he scaled over the fence, his clothes were torn and in tatters, but his heart never wavered.

Komaeda hurried back to the familiar neighborhood and snuck into the man’s house. He left his shoes outside, crept into the man’s bedroom, and placed it near his bedside atop his nightstand.

“All I ask of you is to bring the most beautiful hope to this world,” Komaeda weakly rasped, pressing his trembling hands together to form a prayer. “I regret that I won’t be able to see it, but I have done my part in aiding you. Hope is an absolute good. It can’t be bought with money, it is unpredictable like despair. But it will shine brighter than any evil, and it embodies itself within you.”

Hinata stirred in his sleep and groggily awoke to a blood-splattered man with seraphic-white hair and eyes like a springtime grove.

“What… an angel?”

Komaeda smiled. “Yes,” he laughed softly, “soon, I will become an angel.”

“I must be dreaming,” Hinata whispered, not quite believing himself. “Yeah, that must be it. I’m dreaming.”

“Listen to me,” Komaeda said, a half-hearted smile still plastered on his lips. “Tomorrow, you will find your desired red rose. Please make use of it, for your love will conquer all of your despair.”

The brown-haired man grumbled, still half-asleep. “I don’t get what you’re saying, but whatever… sure.”

“Thank you,” Komaeda exhaled, relieved. “Then… I will take my leave.”

He swiftly exited the room, jacket coattails swinging behind him. But Komaeda was slowly losing the struggle for his life, and he immediately hit the ground once he reached his home.

“Aha… even with my luck, I’ve got no chance to make it out alive.”

Komaeda felt cold. Even though his house was supposed to be warm, all he felt was a bitter tang on his tongue and the lazy wrap of frigid talons around his body.

“But since love and hope is greater than death…”

Komaeda let his eyes flutter shut. 

“…I’m glad I could be of use.”

He exhaled his final breath, then passed with a smile on his face.

The next morning, Hinata gasped at the large rose on his nightstand. He had a feeling someone from last night’s dream had to do with it, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember his face nor what he had told him.

“I’ve never seen a rose like this in my entire life,” Hinata muttered to himself as he inspected it beneath the sunlight streaming through his window. “It’s the color of a ruby. Must’ve been expensive.”

With the rose in his hands, once Hinata was done with his morning wash-up, he hurried to find Chiaki’s house.

The gamer was idly sitting on her doorstep, enjoying the morning breeze with a PSP in her grip. “Hajime,” she greeted as Hinata approached her, not looking up from her game.

“You said you would go to the dance with me if I brought you a red rose,” Hinata breathed, showing her the flower. “So here- it’s the reddest rose I’ve ever seen in my life. Please accept it, Chiaki.”

But Chiaki frowned. She paused her game and steepled her hands together.

“I’m sorry Hajime, but I don’t think it’ll go with my outfit,” she apologized, brushing a finger over the PSP’s buttons nervously. “Besides, Sonia bought me a set of jewels to wear tonight… and she’s invited me on a date, too. It would be too cruel of me to turn her down. Maybe if you asked earlier...”

“...Wow, Chiaki. I didn’t know you were _that_ ungrateful,” Hinata grumbled, throwing the rose onto the street, where it fell into a dusty corner, and a large truck ran over it.

Chiaki widened her eyes. “Hajime, I didn’t mean-”

“Save it,” Hinata snapped, already turning around to leave. Chiaki flared her cheeks out in bubbling anger, but decidedly ignored Hinata’s retreating backside and unpaused her game to play.

“What a stupid thing love is,” Hinata snarled to himself as he went back home. “Can’t be any better than studying. At least I might be able to transfer to a better school that way.”

So he returned to his room, brought out a geometry book, and began to read.

**Author's Note:**

> Hajime, despite reading a geometry book, sucks at it.


End file.
